


kam week 2020

by glitter_demon



Category: Keeper of the Lost Cities Series - Shannon Messenger
Genre: Kam Week 2020, M/M, i thrive on prompts let's gooo
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-02
Updated: 2020-12-02
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:01:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27828661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glitter_demon/pseuds/glitter_demon
Summary: thanks to kam-week-2020 for holding this event + the prompts![discontinued bc my motivation decided to jump into the void]
Relationships: Keefe Sencen/Tam Song
Comments: 8
Kudos: 14





	1. neverseen (day 1)

**Author's Note:**

> this was written before i read unlocked lol but i'm hoping it's just as soul-crushing as the book was ;)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was written before i read unlocked lol but i'm hoping it's just as soul-crushing as the book was ;)
> 
> also au where gisela kept tam trapped in the neverseen so qwq

The persistence is the worst part.

That presence, never too strong, never too obvious, just  _ there  _ in such a way that he feels it, lightly, latched onto the back of his mind, tensed like it's about to sink its claws all the way in.

But it never does. Because if it did finally take that last step, they would all know what the neverseen had put it there for. There wouldn't be this mystery, this burning trepidation every time he registers its hold in his head.

And he  _ always  _ notices.

Maybe it's because he just woke up. Maybe it'll just go away, and he won't have that constant reminder of the neverseen every time he tries to talk to his friends. Maybe it's just a fleeting remnant.

But he knows that can't be true. Because nothing is  _ ever  _ that easy. This is going to be something, but right now he's too exhausted to think about what. 

He doesn't particularly want to sleep, given the fact that he had been asleep for literal weeks, but everyone (after a lot of crying and hugging and questions and a very, very anticlimactic conclusion that he has no idea what the thing in his head is supposed to do) said that he needs actual rest before they can try anything, so here he is.

Waiting.

And Keefe has always been terrible at waiting.

The desire to just leave, to try and find something to spur this "transformation" nonsense on is tempting. He stares out the window of his room—the same infirmary room he's been in for quite a while, because there's no  _ way _ he's going back to the Shores of Solace. He needs some time to think after that ordeal, and he doesn't want Cassius trying to dissect his emotions when he hasn't really figured them out himself.

So. Start simple. Relief. He's not super evil now (probably—he thinks he'd be doing more dramatic cackling if he was though), and he's not dead. His friends were here, and he loves them, and he's so, so relieved that Sophie was able to get him out of Loamnore before the neverseen did. 

Which brings him to another emotion—disappointment. Or, more accurately, longing, but there is absolutely no way he's going to confront something that strong quite yet, so disappointment it is. Tam wasn't there when he woke up.

He can't blame him, really. Tam did execute the neverseen's plan, and he probably feels guilty about it.

His heart aches a little at that. He really, really misses him, and he doesn't want him to think he's mad at him, because they've always had a sort of hostile vibe to their friendship but he needs Tam to know that he really,  _ really  _ cares about him and it's just a joke because when they met he was, like, really insecure about the fact that—

There's a knock at his door.

Oh.

He gets up and opens it, the cold, subdued light from the hallway spilling into the dark of the room. 

And there, of course, because the universe decided he really needs to have an emotional conversation at two in the morning, is Tam.

Tam, hands shoved in his pockets, exhausted, eyes shining with the gentle glimmer of stars from the window.

_ Tam _ .

He just stares at him for a second. Tam looks away, opening his mouth to say something, but stops when Keefe hugs him as tightly as he can. 

He freezes, and Keefe can feel the emotions snag in his heart—relief, surprise, anxiety, regret—entangled in a mess of other things he doesn't care to decipher right now. It takes him a moment, but he hugs back, hesitantly. Softly. Like he's afraid Keefe is going to disappear.

So Keefe just pulls him further into the embrace. He wants to cry, but he doesn't, because this is happy, right? It's fine, he's back now.

"Hey, Bangs Boy," he says gently, releasing just enough to see his face. "Nice to see you again."

He doesn't realize how close they really were until Tam pulls away, crossing his arms.

"Hi." His voice cracks as he says it, tears pooling in his eyes. "Look, I… I'm sorry. For everything. For—"

Keefe reaches out to him. He doesn't know  _ why  _ he does it—because he's tired, because he knows (he's known for a long time, and maybe that's why he does this now) those feelings he was having a few seconds ago  _ weren't  _ entirely platonic, because he knows neither of them have ever been good at expressing emotions, so just going for it seems like a good idea.

He wipes away a tear beginning to run down Tam’s cheek and says, "No, c’mon, don’t apologize. You had to, I get that. What’s important is that I’m back! You’re back. We can—I mean, all of us can take down the neverseen together now!”

Tam raises a shaky hand against Keefe’s. “N-no, we… we can’t.” His voice grows even quieter, achingly so, the guilt and loss drowning out all his other emotions. “I’m not back.”

Keefe blinks. This isn’t supposed to happen, this is supposed to be happy—all the things from Loamnore resolved, the neverseen having kept their promise. He denies it, but he knows, from his Empathy, from Tam’s words, from the truth that no matter how hard they try, the neverseen always,  _ always  _ manage to keep the upper hand. 

So he just smiles, sadly, asking a question his heart already knows the answer to. “What do you mean? You’re right here.” He hugs him again, and Tam reciprocates immediately, clinging to him like he’s a lifeline. “You’re right here,” Keefe repeats, focusing on the warmth of his embrace.

Tam doesn’t respond. It feels strange, really, to talk like this—sincerely, genuinely, their hearts too raw to maintain their usual teasing hostility, that easy facade of jokes and fond arguments. They both feel it, and they know that this is different, that this is crossing a line, that they’re going to wake up tomorrow and regret what they said tonight—senselessly, really, because this is what they’ve conveyed every other time, just in a different way. Because Keefe knows how Tam feels, and it’s welling up inside of him so strongly. So deeply, that he almost wants to let go, but he can’t, because what if this is the last time?

There’s so many things he wants to say. This is too much, this isn’t enough, this is so sudden, this is too late. Because all of that is true, and he wishes he could get that out of that mouth of his that always says too much, but he can’t. So instead, he says, “Stay. Please.”

His eyes are squeezed shut, but he can feel Tam shake his head faintly. “I can’t. You know I can’t.”

“Then why did you come?”

He’s not angry, not really, and he says them as gently as he can, but the words are biting nonetheless. He doesn't want the words to be accusatory. He doesn't want him to feel guiltier. But this is too much too fast and he doesn't—they were supposed to have more  _ time _ and—

Tam lets go, and Keefe opens his eyes instinctively. “To say goodbye. To say hello. I don’t know. I just—” he pauses. “I don’t know why I’m here. I don’t— I- I don’t really know why I missed  _ you  _ so much, out of everyone, and I—” he stares at him, arms crossed, flushed with tears and remorse and far, far too much else. “What is this?”

Keefe laughs ruefully. “I think we both know. But it’s… a lot.”

“Yeah. Yeah, it is.” He looks past him to the window, those beautiful,  _ beautiful _ eyes shining as silver as the moon itself. “Sorry. Again. I… you know, I should go.”

He turns to leave without further prelude. Keefe grabs his wrist before he can go. Tam doesn’t look back at him, but he stops. Shaking. 

“Goodbye. But we’re getting you back here, okay? They can’t keep you forever. I got out, and you can too. I promise.”

There’s a moment where Tam wants to look back, to kiss him, to linger in it for as long as he can, and Keefe is filled with it, a desire he shares just as much. 

But their hearts are already broken enough, and though the mere thought sends another crack to the chasm, they don’t.

The moment passes, and he’s gone.

He’s gone.


	2. flowers/soulmates (day 2)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so basically i did both of the prompts, and for this au (which has probably been done before lol) when your soulmate touches you flower tattoos bloom from where the contact was and spread the more your soulmate touches you so yeah. be prepared for some very colorful flower descriptions uwu

It had just been a day; another set of hours, another day of planning, a time completely indistinct from any of the others since the Black Swan had revealed itself. 

Keefe hadn't been able to stand it anymore, honestly, so he had gone outside, away from the paper and thoughts of the neverseen with some paper and thoughts of his own. A sketchbook and a pencil, illuminated warmly in the gentle sun.

Which brought him to this hill.

He had told Tam he was coming here. He didn't really know why; they have never been very close, but he enjoys being around him. He tries not to think about that too much, for some reason. It's just a friend thing, really, and it isn't like every time he's around Keefe wants to touch him, just a little, just to see if flowers will bloom across him, the petals dark, knowing Tam, a lovely mosaic of midnight shades.

Okay, so maybe he thinks about that a bit too much for it to be a passing thought. Especially since he realizes he's started drawing flowers, absently, lines a bit too curly here and a bit too straight there.

But it isn't like he could just find out; he couldn't just say, "Hey, dude, I know we're barely friends but I really want to be your soulmate, so can I just give you a high five or something incredibly romantic like that or is that, like, really weird?".

Before he can dwell on the subject further, he sees Tam coming up the hill. He waves, and something in him makes his heart pump faster, makes anticipation thrum in his chest. It feels like fate, and he doesn't quite know why, but he just takes a deep breath and tells himself to relax. This isn't anything big. It's fine.

And it  _ is  _ fine, really fine, actually, and though the weighty feeling didn't quite go away, they manage to actually have a good time. Nothing very interesting, really; just talking while Keefe doodles clouds and birds and whatever else flows onto the page.

But somehow he keeps going back to flowers. 

There's a lull in the conversation eventually, and of course,  _ of course _ Tam fills the silence.

"So what are you drawing?"

Keefe taps his pencil on the sketchbook. "Oh, y'know, um… nature things."

"Cool. Can I see? If that's okay," he replies, smiling a little. It was a pretty smile, the kind that's honest and warm at the edges; Tam's smiles were always like that, so genuine, which was probably why he doesn't really smile that much. The whole mysterious shade thing wouldn't really work if he looked so positively radiant all the time.

Keefe nods quickly, realizing he had been staring a bit, and shows him the most recent page.

Tam blinks. "Oh. Wow. That's… that's really good!"

Keefe laughs, blushing. "Okay, you don't have to sound so surprised."

"I'm not surprised—but don't let that go to your head, you're talented enough in the confidence department as it is."

"Thank you?"

Tam crosses his arms. "Yeah, sure. My point is, that's really cool." He leans forward and points at a particularly tendril-y gardenia that spirals out from one of the corners. "Especially that one. Weirdest flower-adjacent thing I've ever seen."

"You give really confusing compliments."

"Whatever, you're welcome," Tam says, rolling his eyes. 

Keefe laughs again, about to close the sketchbook, when Tam pulls back.

And his hand brushes his.

It's nothing, really, just the slightest touch. Tam doesn't even seem to notice until Keefe freezes, looking down at the other's hands.

A gorgeous array of flowers unfurls across them, bright and lively; daylilies in bursts of brilliant red, puffs of golden marigolds, orange tulips that look as though the sun itself is licking at their petals. A vine of morning glory curls through them, the ice-blue blossoms striking against the fiery hues of the other flowers. 

Keefe grins (stupidly, he's sure, but he's far too excited to care), looking up at Tam's face. "Do you… do you see them?" 

He's smiling too, an expression he almost tries to suppress, but even from here Keefe can tell how elated he is to see the blooms. "Of course I see them, idiot, look at yours."

Orchids and roses of a deep indigo compose most of the flowers, their large petals layered between the others in an elegant arrangement. Dark irises rise from ebony stems, the leaves cracked and torn; but from the holes, silver lilies of the valley poke out brightly, the tiny, bell-shaped blossoms poking out from between the petals of other blooms as well. 

Tam reaches out and takes his hands. The flowers seem to grow at his touch, their petals becoming just a bit fuller, the stalks becoming just a bit taller. Tam opens his mouth to say something, but doesn't, that same beautifully sincere smile still curving across his lips.

"Speechless? I do have to say, that's some of my best work," Keefe says instead, swiping a thumb across a marigold that looks more like ink and paint than plant. 

Tam laughs. "Really? You just found out we're  _ soulmates  _ and the first thing you say is that the flowers that you didn't even draw—even though I guess they do kind of look like your art—are your 'best work'?"

"Yes. They're just as pretty as you, after all, and technically I did make them, so of course I'm proud. And hey, the ones you made on me are even lovelier."

Blushing, Tam looks away. "Um, thanks. They are pretty cool."

"Yeah," he replies, looking down at them again. 

And they're funny, really.

In an incredulous sort of way, in the happiness and surprise, in the light of this sunny afternoon.

He starts laughing again, softly, and Tam rolls his eyes, creased by his grin. 

"You're such a dork."

"I know."

Tam leans in, just a little bit, and asks, "Can I kiss you?"

His voice in that moment is unlike anything Keefe has ever heard before, light and sweet as a butterfly's wings, joyful as a summer breeze, just… amazing. He nods.

The kiss is pure bliss; his fingers carding gently through his hair, Tam's heartbeat steady against Keefe’s chest, an instinctive, resounding  _ yes  _ warming his very soul.

And on his lips, he swears he can taste nectar.


End file.
